


Recursion

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: Jongdae breaks into a secret government facility and meets an android that looks just like him.





	Recursion

**Author's Note:**

> written for prompt #221. apologies to the mods for the late submission, and apologies to the op if the fic does not fulfill what you wanted. after three different concepts/drafts, it is finally done - and thank you for J and K's patience with me as I struggled to the finish line.
> 
>  **warnings:** language, selfcest, explicit sexual content, including touches of dirty talk and whether you consider having sex with an android as dubiously consensual.

-

‘I thought he was joking,’ says Jongdae, cupping Chen’s chin. ‘But here you are.’

As an android, Chen does not startle - but it’s strange, coming online, his systems booting up, his retinal scans beginning to register, and the first image he sees is himself.

Admittedly, it’s not a perfect mirror, because Jongdae has morning stubble at the upper corners of his mouth and acne scars dusting along his cheeks. Wearing contacts, too. His hair is also mussed, and he’s dressed down in casual clothes - jacket, shirt, jeans.

‘Hello, my name is Chen, your personal assistant,’ says Chen, as the script dictates.

The corner of Jongdae’s mouth quirks up. ‘Oh - is that what Junmyeon-hyung calls you?’ His hand slides up Chen’s cheek, finding his ear, his hair, rubbing strands between his fingers. ‘Doesn’t feel synthetic - huh.’ He blinks, trains his eyes on Chen again. ‘Do you know who I am?’

Retinal scans cross-referencing his memory database storage give him the answer: ‘Dr. Junmyeon’s model.’

‘Model,’ echoes Jongdae. He pulls his hand away and looks around. Dr. Junmyeon’s lab is spacious, clean, as opposed to the mess of his private office. ‘I’m his psychological and physical model for his A.I. development on the first fully-independent functioning android.’

‘You must be a very special human,’ says Chen, an attempt at social niceties programmed in him.

Jongdae steps back, looking Chen up and down. ‘Sure.’ His tongue peeks out, swipes along his bottom lip. Chen’s retinal scans record the quirk, recognizing it in his programming. So - this was his human counterpart. His original self.

‘You are here without Dr. Junmyeon’s permission?’ He asks, glancing around and seeing no one else. His internal clock tells him it’s a few minutes past midnight. Dr. Junmyeon must have gone home by now.

‘Quick on the uptake,’ Jongdae says, and his tone tilts upwards. Something like admiration? Pleasure? ‘I wanted to see what he had hiding and _technically_ he said I was welcome any time.’ Digging into his pocket, Jongdae pulls out a familiar keycard, waves it through the air. ‘So - I’ve arrived.’

His processors take more than a few milliseconds to analyze the information, which signals the beginning of a behavioural feedback loop - has Chen tipping his head down in a human gesture to ease whoever interacted with him. ‘I do not have the capabilities to break the law.’ He pauses - the decorum of language, the placing of emphasis - and continues: ‘That was not in the psychological profile Dr. Junmyeon used as the framework for my personality.’

Jongdae grins at that - and his pleasure is easy to see now, the analysis of microexpressions not needed: ‘I think _Dr._ Junmyeon is not as smart as he thinks he is, don’t you?’

A question beckons an answer, but Chen is not programmed for slights. ‘He has created me.’

‘Completely unoriginal.’ Jongdae takes another step back, gesturing with his hand for Chen to follow him. ‘C’mon, let’s explore.’

‘The lab?’

‘It’s huge. I need company.’ Jongdae’s grin is sly. He flips the keycard in his hand and pockets it, looking at Chen.

Chen steps out of his refitted charging pod, his bare feet now on the cold floor of the lab, sending somatic signals through his frame. ‘It is cold,’ he says, because humans enjoy remarks on the temperature.

‘Minseok-hyung likes it cold,’ says Jongdae. ‘You know Minseok?’

‘The head of security for the lab.’ Chen tips his head to the side now, another behavioural feedback loop. ‘This is a secret government facility, and yet you managed to enter.’

‘Who knows, maybe I’m a secret government agent,’ Jongdae says, grin on his face. He holds out a hand, and there is a high statistical probability that he wants Chen to take it. So, Chen does.

The somatic sensors of his synthetic skin tell him many things: he’s wearing soft cotton for his shirt and pants, the lab is chilly, and Jongdae’s hand is warm. The lab itself is in the basement of a government facility - clean and spacious, but with low ceilings. There are computers, wide TV screens, terminals, and servers placed all along the exposed cement walls, as well as Chen’s own charging pod - a retrofitted cryogenic chamber - whose wires spill outwards, its plugs trying to chase the outlets along Chen’s body.

Dr. Junmyeon’s office is on the far corner of the lab. Jongdae makes a beeline there, still holding onto Chen’s hand.

‘Did you pickpocket him?’ Chen asks, his personality program encouraging him to gain more information to serve his human better.

Jongdae glances at him. ‘He gave it to me.’

Chen tip his head again, absorbing data from somatic and retinal scans. ‘Your heartbeat picked up. Your eyes narrowed. You are lying.’

Immediately, Jongdae lets go of his hand but doesn’t stop navigating his way past the tables and stools towards the door of Dr. Junmyeon’s office. It would be locked by the RFID scanner and a retinal scan.

‘Why are you here?’

Pulling the ID card, Jongdae swipes it, and then leans forward. Chen waits for the system to lock him out.

The door unlocks.

Jongdae looks at him, smiles. ‘He gave me his eye too.’

Chen stares at him - re-evaluates the contacts that are in Jongdae’s eyes. There were retinal scanners linked to navigation applications, as well as picture-taking abilities, which were soon outlawed under intensifying privacy laws that had been passed less than a few years ago. Yet, here was Jongdae, with a prototype far more advanced than both types - a retinal scanner that imitated the iris and pupil properties of another human.

‘You are a threat to cyber security,’ Chen says.

Jongdae steps into Dr. Junmyeon’s office and laughs. ‘I _am_ cyber security.’

‘That was not in your file.’

‘My file is beyond your access.’

Chen looks around Dr. Junmyeon’s office. Compared to the organized mess of the lab, his office is a haphazard collection of half-printed reports, theses, lab notes which all almost manage to obscure the telltale bump of a laptop and a tablet, with the desktop at least clear of the mess. His background processors take in additional details: the desk has a standing-up height feature using pneumatics, the walls have been specially painted a robin’s egg blue, there is a fake cactus on top of his electronically-locked filing cabinet -

‘Are you trying for access?’ Jongdae asks. ‘You won’t get it.’

Chen shakes his head. ‘I have not been in this office in over twelve days. There are discrepancies.’

‘Do tell.’

There is a new write-up on personality diagnostics, applying the possibility of false errors in order to imitate humanity more deliberately. Another report that calculates the power usage of Chen’s processing abilities, as well as the slow increase of charging time needed over the last year. In the corner of one of the desks, the printer still had papers lying face-down on its tray, waiting to be collected. Chen tips his head towards it, when suddenly, Jongdae deftly steps in his way, eyes on him.

‘You didn’t answer me,’ he says, leans forward a little - so close that Chen could easily photograph his pores without zooming in. ‘You haven’t even called security yet, have you.’

There is no upward tilt to the statement to indicate that it is a question. ‘I have not accessed your file nor contacted security.’ His systems are all online, but Dr. Junmyeon’s commands remain a firewall he is unable to bypass. ‘I am to operate under strict observation mode, with no decision-making tasks outside the limited scope of my one-on-one interactions.’

‘You’ll hold my hand and call me a liar, but you won’t call for Minseok.’ Jongdae nods. ‘How do I activate your higher-functioning skills?’

‘It is not recommended. The appropriate ASIMOV safety protocols have not been properly installed into my AI as of yet.’

Jongdae clicks his tongue. ‘You’re very good at runarounds - now, answer me _properly_ , Chen.’

Chen tilts his head. ‘Due to my prototype nature, the firewall bypass is guarded by a TPC - that is, two person control - with the project head Dr. Kim Junmyeon and his assistant Dr. Do Kyungsoo.’

‘That’s easy enough,’ says Jongdae. He turns around and boots up Dr. Junmyeon’s desktop, opening up the laptop as well. ‘What’s his password?’ He pauses. ‘That is a command, Chen.’

Data points connecting, hypothesis emerging, reinventing. Chen blinks to take a screenshot of the scene before he says, ‘There is a high statistic probability that you already knew all that you’re asking of me.’

‘That I know you’re in information-only mode, with a penchant to answer any question I ask?’ Jongdae fiddles with the tablet as well, turning it on. ‘So? Are you going to scan some fingerprints or are you going to use your data-gathering intelligence to narrow down three hypothetical passwords?’

His processors cross-reference his data with Dr. Junmyeon while reviewing footage he took while he was in Dr. Junmyeon’s office for the past year, watching him type. The flex of Dr. Junmyeon's fingers, the back of his hands, how he mouthed the sounds of the words he input. ‘There are two different alphabetical passwords and a numerical one for the tablet.’ He tells them to Jongdae.

‘You’re so useful.’

The praise is a new data point. Jongdae does not seem hostile to him in the least. Chen re-evaluates: he has helped Jongdae with an illegal act because there are no firewalls to stop him from answering questions that Dr. Junmyeon could never have foreseen. After all, the lab was secured for only a few select staff after hours, including Dr. Junmyeon, Dr. Kyungsoo, and Minseok. What risk was there that they may have missed a loophole on Chen’s personality? Prototypes were allowed to have errors.

Jongdae has the laptop open, as well as the desktop and the tablet. From a pocket, he pulls out a flashdrive to insert into the desktop tower before focusing on the laptop.

In the periphery of Chen’s vision, the papers still sit in the tray of the printer. His retinal scans zoom in, conclude it’s only three sheets.

‘Stay still and let me work,’ orders Jongdae.

‘May I speak?’

Jongdae snorts. ‘Sure.’

There are over dozen questions, so Chen orders them into the statistical probability of them being answered. The highest: ‘Are you - Kim Jongdae - related to Dr. Kim Junmyeon?’

A beat of silence. ‘Another runaround?’ Jongdae glances at him. ‘I knew him before the project. I was given a psychological profile to complete, passed it with flying colours, and my personality as well as physical features were used as the basis for your prototype.’

‘You are me,’ says Chen, his basic communication module restating what is said, acknowledgement that he has heard and understood.

‘We’re very different.’

A curious statement. Arising more questions. ‘You have an organic body and I do not.’

Jongdae snorts. ‘You think I care about the _parts_ of you?’ He straightens up from over the laptop and picks up the tablet, opening the application list and flicking through them. He was leaving fingerprints, remarked Chen. He wondered if Jongdae was aware - or rather, if he cared.

‘The psychological profile tests things such as empathy and interpersonal communication. They recorded me having conversations with others and then based your responses on them.’ Jongdae’s tongue flicks out over his bottom lip again. Something on the tablet has grabbed his attention. ‘Your runarounds - are from me.’

‘They are not productive to progressing communication.’

‘But they obscure loopholes.’ Another huff of air - like a bitten-off laugh. ‘I see right through you.’

Metaphoric transparency. It is what is expected of androids such as Chen, in order to ease human owners to not feel threatened by disobeying sentience.

‘It is best to be transparent,’ says Chen.

‘Yet you won’t be.’

‘You do not agree.’ More data points. Jongdae is stubborn about his viewpoint, even though his assumptions leading to the conclusion are incorrect. Chen is not intentionally obscure, he is using his personality module. He is programmed this way.

‘But you’ll help me hack Junmyeon-hyung’s data archives,’ he says. ‘So maybe parts of me did come through the psychological tests.’

‘Without proper ASIMOV protocols in place, I cannot stop you.’

‘Do you even want to?’

Want. Desire. Emotionally-motivated tasks. ‘I do not experience want.’

‘I bet you’re experiencing irritation right now.’

Irritation: the state of feeling annoyance, anger, or impatience. ‘I am to adapt to whoever is speaking to me as is most comfortable for them, even if they are wrong.’

That startles a laugh out of Jongdae. It’s - loud. Chen’s audio processors records the sound, replays it for analysis. It’s pitch, it’s tone. It matches the one that is programmed into his personality module. _This is me_.

‘You have attitude,’ says Jongdae, admiring, pleased. He turns off the tablet and puts it back on the table, moves to the desktop screen where the program is running from off his flashdrive.

‘May I ask what you’re doing,’ says Chen finally, switching tactics. Re-organizes his questions from bottom-up, picks one close to the top to ask despite its low probability of being answered truthfully.

‘I’m gathering your data and assessing any future prototypes that Junmyeon-hyung has in his archives. It wouldn’t do if he was working on side projects without permission.’

A straightforward answer, surprising in its frankness. Jongdae did not obscure his own illegal dealings with Chen at all. Processors hum under his synthetic skin. He tips his head. ‘You understand the science?’

‘I understand enough to recognize,’ says Jongdae, typing fast on the keyboard. There’s a hitch in his breath. Not enough of a data point to indicate a lie, but perhaps a half-truth.

‘You are a government agent.’

‘Sure.’

It is an affirmative answer, but also one without any particular clarity. ‘Cyber-security for the government.’

‘Sure,’ repeats Jongdae. Same flat tone, no inflection. He is not impressed by Chen’s guesses.

The presence of Jongdae gives Chen entirely new data points to assess. He is beyond a controlled subject - such as Dr. Kyungsoo and Dr. Junmyeon’s scripted conversations - and he behaves far stranger than any human so far, with his behaviour, his dialogue. _This is how one breaks the law, this is how one lies._

Jongdae snorts as he pulls up another report onto the screen of the desktop. ‘I thought hyung was just joking.’ He beckons Chen to step forward with the crook of his fingers. Chen obeys as he is wont to do and reads the text on the screen in record time. He nods.

‘I am to satisfy all needs of humans,’ he says. ‘Including psychological and physical comforts.’

Turning around, Jongdae leans back against the desk. He will leave palm prints on the surface, Chen observes. ‘Did he ever fuck you? Junmyeon-hyung?’

‘Robots for the purpose of sexual satisfaction were one of the first prototypes on the market,’ says Chen, paraphrasing his knowledge into colloquial terms. _This is my history_. ‘Soon after, analytical AIs already used in military and space technology were being integrated into robots in order to re-invent the basic household robots into an android with sentience and responsiveness. For example, the automated voice answering the corporate calls would be accompanied by a body as well as a range of emotional and informational responses.’

Jongdae is watching him - he has not blinked at the usual rate while Chen speaks, signifying intense focus. Chen himself blinks at intervals of one to three seconds depending on the casualness of the social interaction in order to simulate human behaviour. It is - different, to see a human not follow biological protocol. His eyes will dry.

Then, Jongdae does blink, but he does not reply. Instead, he turns back to the desktop and scrolls through the reports before closing it, letting the copying program on the flashdrive do its work.

Analyzing the tenseness of his shoulders indicates that Jongdae is waiting for the program to finish. His fingers tap a rhythm on the table. Cross-referencing the pattern to the audio files within his internal storage brings up three different pop songs, the oldest one recorded thirteen years ago. Music heard in pubescence was believed to be stored in the long-term memory, leaving a deeper imprint than mainstream pop heard in adulthood. Chen tips his head - the lack of age lines in Jongdae’s face indicates an age range of late twenties to mid-thirties. He is younger than Dr. Junmyeon.

‘What song is that?’ Chen prompts.

‘Curious?’

A fundamental biological urge for the continued survival of humans. The closest urge to Chen’s analytics searching for further data points to fulfill a hypothesis. Which song? The old one or the recent one?

‘Yes.’

Jongdae looks at him from over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. ‘You can feel that but not annoyance?’

It is too definitive to say _yes_ , so Chen adapts: ‘Sure.’

The grin on Jongdae’s face widens. His finger change rhythm. Another cross-reference reveals he has switched to a beat from a different genre of music entirely. The oldest song now was recorded five years ago. ‘How about now? You feel it?’

‘You are purposefully giving me false data points,’ says Chen. His voice modules remain without inflection, yet Jongdae’s reaction - laughter, a smile showing his teeth - indicates as if yes, Chen _does_ feel annoyance at being denied his analysis.

‘That’s my personality,’ Jongdae drawls. ‘My real one.’

‘My personality module is your persona?’ Chen reviews its coding behind his retinal scanners. ‘It is rather thorough for superficial interactions.’

‘Okay, _fine_ , so it’s not _all_ fake,’ says Jongdae, shaking his head. ‘You can’t take a joke, huh?’

‘I have an advanced humour profile.’

‘From Junmyeon-hyung, I bet.’

‘He is the primary programmer.’

‘What’s a robot’s favourite type of music?’

‘Heavy metal,’ says Chen, the response automatic.

Jongdae rubs his face with his hand. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘You may ask me what makes a robot angry.’

‘I’ll pass.’ A flashing prompt on the desktop screen appears. The program has finished combing through the hard drive. Jongdae takes the flashdrive back and turns to the laptop, putting it into the laptop’s sideport to run the program again.

The program is a simple piece of code - he is unsure of Jongdae’s level of familiarity with programming, but it seems within reason that he made this himself. Chen can only come up with a wide swathe of theories as to why he would break into a heavily guarded facility on his own, why he would wake Chen for only passwords, and the rather open way he spoke to Chen, as if he had no real need for secrecy, no worry that Chen would report all this - including his retinal footage - back to Dr. Junmyeon in the morning.

‘Are you not concerned that I am here watching you?’ It is worth asking, and it would add another piece of data to analyze amongst his eighteen theories. The most likely one at this point was simply: Kim Jongdae is an ignorant idiot.

‘Why should I be?’ Jongdae reaches up, touches Chen’s cheek. His eyes aren’t blinking again, his mouth is tight at the corners from the subtle clench of his jaw. It is the fourth time Jongdae has touched him; he is still warm. ‘Let’s say you show your eye-cam recording to Junmyeon-hyung, what is he going to do? How is he going to stop me?’

‘Report you to the authorities, mayhaps.’

‘Mayhaps?’

Chen corrects. ‘It is a colloquialism for comfort. There is a 86% chance.’

‘Then I’m banking on the 14%.’

‘This implies you have history with Dr. Junmyeon beyond the chosen test subject.’

‘I expected you to catch on quicker than that.’

Chen tips his head, re-calculates. ‘I have twenty-one theories on your behaviour, drawing on your various actions. None have been conclusive so far as to why you are here, what you are doing, and who you are.’

‘Hit me,’ says Jongdae.

‘The most likely is that you are associated to the military, who has secreted away both advanced technologies and personnel files from the public. This fits into your ability to secure both a keycard and an imitation retinal device, your disregard for the consequences of your handprints and being recorded, your file being inaccessible, and your knowledge of what is being done within the facility.’

Jongdae is grinning. His eyes crinkle at the corners with sincerity. ‘That’s right!’

He sounds - proud. A parental or caretaker response. How Dr. Junmyeon sounds. ‘All of it?’

‘Almost,’ says Jongdae, with that same warm expression, warm voice. ‘You got everything except one thing.’

Behavioural analysis would indicate that Jongdae has previous relations to Chen as well, though they have never met nor have seen each other until this night, thirty-seven minutes ago. There is a familiarity within Jongdae’s actions, and it can be easily concluded as the fact that they look the same. Chen does not sate himself with easy conclusions.

‘I would like to know what I missed.’

Jongdae snorts. ‘Wouldn’t we all?’ He reaches out again, his fingers skating over Chen’s cheekbone, then suddenly flicking his nails along Chen’s lashes, resulting in a somatic response loop that has Chen close his eyes against any sudden dust or debris. Despite the low chance of it happening - Jongdae’s thumb softly slides over the eyelid. ‘My turn,’ he murmurs, voice so soft and low. ‘Answer all the things you didn’t.’

Chen goes back over his retinal recordings for the last thirty-nine minutes. There were only two instances he could specify. First: the discrepancies in Dr. Junmyeon’s office. He hears Jongdae move back, yet Jongdae still hovers close, only twenty five centimeters away from Chen. According to the rules of personal space for humans, it qualifies as intimacy. Opening his eyes, Chen recites the details: the placement of Dr. Junmyeon's chair, the positioning of the technology, the three new reports, and the three sheets of paper lying in the printer tray.

‘Good,’ says Jongdae with a nod. He has resumed his habit of not blinking. Humans find it an unnerving habit; Chen does not have a programmed reaction for it. He stares back, resumes his task. Second: did Dr. Junmyeon ever fuck him?

‘I have the appropriate feedback loops and personality modules. Action potential frequencies have also been inputted within my somatic sensors for certain areas along the skin. I am fully capable of the act, but I have never been asked to engage - by Dr. Junmyeon or otherwise.’

This time, it is Jongdae who tips his head to the side. He is assessing. ‘It’s new.’

Chen shakes his head. ‘All programming was installed as a complete set. Updates to the programming include behavioural glitches, for example the appropriate rate for blinking, but not a personality module. It would also be hard to remove the module. Sexual comfort is well integrated into my system in combination with verbal, physical and psychological comfort.’ He pauses for one and a half seconds to simulate taking a breath. ‘As a reminder, the historical beginnings of A.I. - ’

‘I heard you the first time,’ says Jongdae, waving his hand. A gesture to stop speaking. ‘It’s new to me that you have this in your code. Then again, you have a lot of things in your code that you shouldn’t. Can you fold a fitted sheet?’

‘Yes.’

‘Like that.’ Putting his hands on his hips, Jongdae’s mouth presses into a flat line. His blinks are slow and measured. Cat-like, according to the dissected literature inputted into Chen’s internal memory. ‘I’m almost tempted to try it out. See how hyung’s programming meshes with mine.’

Ah - it’s fitting together.

‘Do you feel?’ Jongdae asks, and he’s closer now, slipping his hand under the cotton of Chen’s shirt, laying his palm over the bare skin of Chen’s waist underneath. ‘What does this tell you?’

‘You are indicating intimacy.’

Jongdae slides his hand slow - up, over Chen’s ribs now, closer to one of his nipples. Chen inhales sharply, diaphragm going concave. Immediately, Jongdae stops, tips his head. ‘Was that a feedback loop?’

‘Yes.’ Chen does not stop watching Jongdae’s face, constantly analyzing the facial structure.

The hand slides down now, skims the hem of Chen’s soft cotton pants. He does not wear underwear as Jongdae soon discovers, fingers slipping past the waistband to brush over the soft synthetic skin of his abdomen.

Chen lets out a long breath, shudders appropriately. Jongdae’s eyes are narrowed. ‘How far would you let this go?’

‘However far a human needs.’

Jongdae hums. ‘And how far are you curious for your… data points?’

That - is a new suggestion. Sex for data, sex for analysis. Human behaviour, ripe for Chen to pick apart and understand in order to fill in the gaps of his knowledge in real time. ‘I will learn anything that is provided to me.’

‘But do you _want_ it?’

Again, the question of want. As if Chen - an android - has such capabilities of simulating the emotion. ‘I do not experience desire.’

‘You experience curiousity.’

‘The android equivalent.’

‘And what is the android equivalent of desire?’

Chen pauses. Blinks _and_ tips his head. ‘It will be similar to curiousity. Desire is curiousity with one end goal, but I have many.’

‘And I only have one.’ The hand pulls away. With a sigh, Jongdae re-adjusts Chen’s clothes. ‘So - what are your end goals?’

‘The most pertinent end goals at this current time is to learn more about human behaviour in an uncontrolled environment as you have provided for the last fifty-one minutes. As well as to learn who you truly are in order to prove a hypothesis with statistically-high probability.’

The answer seems to incite a response. Jongdae’s mouth parts, but he does not say anything immediately. His eyes flick upwards - the body language manual in Chen indicating that he is thinking - and then Jongdae is stepping away, moving towards the desk instead. He is cleaning up.

As Jongdae unplugs the flashdrive and closes the laptop, turns off the desktop, Chen understands. ‘You will not satisfy these end goals.’

Jongdae shakes his head. ‘Nope. Not unless you can convince me.’

He haphazardly covers the laptop and tablet with the reports, not bothering to match with how he found the desk when he first entered. The chances were low that Dr. Junmyeon would notice. The mess was too chaotic to discern a particular pattern for the human eye in comparison to an android.

Chen’s internal processors are focused on Jongdae’s condition instead. _Unless you can convince me_. What did Jongdae want? He stated he had one goal, and Chen was involved. If Jongdae wanted to take Chen out of the lab, he would have to bring the charging pod. However, Jongdae already had military resources - he could fashion the charging pod for Chen once Chen arrived. Protected by such powerful budget and figures, Jongdae was free to do as he liked, Chen in tow. The only true consequence would be that Dr. Junmyeon’s careful behavioural training was ruined by uncontrolled variables, and - of course - that he was also robbed of his most important project.

The entire hypothesis rested on whether Jongdae did even take the pains to rob him. There was also a possibility that Jongdae did not take him. He had - after all - given a condition, and he would leave if the condition was not satisfied. Jongdae did not bluff - in fact, he understated. Careful with his omission.

However, there was the alternative - _convince me_. Jongdae was not satisfied by Chen’s verbal answers, so Chen could not rely on those for persuasion. What was left to him was the thing that most humans should succumb to - and Jongdae had expressed interest, however faintly. In one smooth movement, Chen takes off his shirt, letting the cotton drop to the floor.

The flutter of fabric catches Jongdae’s eye. He looks at Chen, unblinking as usual. ‘What’s this?’

‘I am convincing you.’

A smile blooms over Jongdae’s face. It does not crinkle the corner of his eyes. It is not an expression of pleasure. ‘And you skipped the talking?’

‘Is that not what we have been doing this whole time?’

‘You’re catching on.’

Ah. Chen smiles. ‘Sure.’

Jongdae’s teeth gleam white in the low light as his grin widens. He stalks towards Chen, one hand coming up to slide into Chen’s hair, take a grip. He tugs on the hair, and Chen lets out a long shuddering breath, switching his somatic feedback loops from pained reactions to pleasurable ones. It is - after all - what was the most appropriate.

Except Jongdae does not do anything more than that. Standing this close, Chen makes a more precise calculation: Jongdae is exactly one centimeter shorter than Chen. The effect of gravity on the spine.

Then: ‘Override personality module 0522 with default module 0921,’ says Jongdae, clear and crisp and undeniable, ‘with exceptions given to sensory feedback loops. Add permission to terminate after sufficient data points gathered for an 85% accurate reconstruction.’

‘Are you giving me consent?’ Chen asks, letting his tasklist blink with the new orders. The sexual personality module has been replaced by his - Jongdae’s? - personality.

‘You convince me, I give you what you want,’ he says, leaning forward. ‘Enough data points for a verifiable hypothesis.’

 _Yet that is not all - not all I want_. A startling directive, stuttering his runtime. Chen falls back on human behavioural signals and meets Jongdae’s mouth with his own, closing his eyes as is customary. His somatic senses are rapid-firing - analyzing the pliancy of Jongdae’s lower lip, the warmth of his skin, how it amplifies the wet sensation of saliva when Jongdae presses harder into Chen.

Then - a slip of the tongue, mimicking the slide of Jongdae’s hand up along Chen’s waist. Dual sensations - slow, slow enough for Chen to terminate, but his program needs more data to analyze - and Chen is the one who is opening his mouth, hands reaching out to touch Jongdae’s waist in return.

Jongdae is smiling against his open mouth, the catch of his teeth sharp and nipping over Chen’s lip. When their tongues meet, a biometric analysis begins. Jongdae has excellent blood pressure, a healthy heart rate, and his saliva has the appropriate water to enzyme ratio.

The analysis continues in the background as sensory feedback takes forefront, needing the most processors to match Jongdae’s careful mapping of Chen’s mouth. He must taste the artificial saliva within Chen’s mouth, a necessary biological component in order for him to mimic human speech all the better. Jongdae doesn’t seem to mind; his tongue slides along under Chen’s front teeth, bumping against his right cuspid. _Tooth number 13_ , supplies his internal memory. Up now, touching the edge of his palate, then Jongdae’s teeth close around Chen’s upper lip, _tug_ , release.

A rhythm, his analysis reports. Reciprocate. So Chen does - pressing wet, sucking kisses over Jongdae’s mouth, his fingers curled into the fabric of Jongdae’s shirt as to prevent him from stepping away. Lose all of Chen’s precious, precious data.

Jongdae does not seem interested in pulling away. His grin is wide enough that their teeth click against each other, and Chen’s eyes open at the sound, breaking the kiss to inspect for damage. It is too gentle of a clash for anything except a gentle reverberation, but he does spot the tip of Jongdae’s pink tongue slide over the whites of his teeth. Chen’s own tongue has analytical capabilities, as do the pads of his fingers. He mimics the gesture. His own teeth have remnants of Jongdae’s spit. ‘You had grilled pork for your meal earlier,’ he says.

‘Hot,’ snorts Jongdae, as his hands slide down, tugging at the waistband of Chen’s cotton pants. ‘Get enough data to move on?’

‘Yes,’ says Chen, his fingers twitching in the soft fabric of Jongdae’s shirt. ‘I would like to take off your clothes. It is another data point.’

‘You’re so hot,’ says Jongdae blandly, raising his arms in obeisance. Chen tips his head even as he lifts the shirt off Jongdae, taking in the soft skin, how it is pale - _he doesn’t see much sunlight_ \- and faintly-defined - _he does not gain fat naturally_ \- and the faint scars from human life - from old acne or scratches, even a faint bruise figuring along his upper left rib.

‘You look healthy,’ he says, because it is human nicety to give compliments.

Jongdae rolls his eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have switched off your dirty talk module.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Chen asks, running another process in the background. _Identify Jongdae’s desires, act to fulfill them_. ‘Do you find engaging in sexual activities with one that looks as you do undesirable?’

He watches as Jongdae raises his eyebrows at the question. ‘Is that what you really think?’

‘I do not think as humans do,’ says Chen as his fingers slide down the flat plane of Jongdae’s stomach, noting the warmth, before finding the button of his jeans. ‘I analyze, investigate, theorize, and verify.’

‘Advanced scientific method,’ says Jongdae as Chen pops the button open, slides the zipper down. He hesitates to push it all the way down. There is no flat surface here except Dr. Junmyeon’s desk and the floor, both unsuitable for optimal penetrative sex. He informs Jongdae about this. ‘ _Penetrative_?’ Jongdae starts laughing. ‘You really want it all.’

‘Now you do not answer me,’ says Chen. A casual remark, yet one that garners Jongdae’s sharp smile that does not reach the corner of his eyes. Mockery?

‘What should I answer?’ Jongdae starts, lifting Chen’s hands away from his jeans and stepping close enough that their chests press together. Warm and cool, organic and inorganic. Yet the same, the _same_. ‘Are you going to fuck me? And do I find that weird? My own face, my own cock, my own hands - fucking me against the wall of Junmyeon-hyung’s office with his superior android strength?’

 _Jongdae’s desire: crudity. To fulfill: reactivate submodule #25 under 0522; need permission_. ‘I need your vocal permission,’ Chen says, ‘to reactivate a submodule you overrode under 0921.’

‘You need it? Or do you want it?’ Jongdae _is_ mocking him. Pressing for a conclusion that Chen knows is false.

‘Will you give it, if I say I want it?’

‘Whatever makes you sleep at night, Chenchen,’ he says, before his voice drops into that clear professionalism: ‘Permission granted for overriding submodules as needed to gather data for accurate reconstruction. Termination permission still in effect.’

 _Permission granted_. Behind his retinas, the coding filters through along with the default programming. Dr. Junmyeon’s additions _are_ seamlessly intertwined with Jongdae’s elaborate base code, there was a 61% chance Jongdae’s override would have caused freezing errors had Chen continued on without reactivating the necessary code. Yes. It is necessary. _It is necessary_.

Except - _Do you want it_? A directive that is swiped to the corner of his retinal view.  Chen must focus on his data gathering.

He dips forward, and Jongdae kisses him. At this rate, Chen could reconstruct a hyperrealistic simulation of what it is like to kiss Jongdae - the feel of his mouth, the shape of it, the sharpness of his teeth, the slick slide of his tongue. He focuses on other factors - one of Jongdae’s hands is sliding around Chen’s neck, the other skating over the waistband of the soft cotton pants.

Imitation. Chen slides his fingers through Jongdae’s hair, noting its texture, its softness. The level of oil indicates he showered early in the morning, and his scalp is warm. He is - so warm. All over. Human and pliant and _warm_.

Jongdae breaks the kiss, his teeth fastening to the skin under Chen’s jaw now, nipping at it, tongue laving a warm wet trail down Chen’s throat. The grip of his hand is firm enough to tell Chen he must not move - even if he could, easily. For it is true, he is stronger than humans, than Jongdae. But now, he needs to understand these sensations, then, as always, _imitate_.

The moment Jongdae pulls away to drag his nails gently over Chen’s skin, as if to see if it will go pink underneath, Chen tips forward and drags his tongue over Jongdae’s neck. Immediately, Jongdae tenses up, breath hitching into a soft sound - _pleasure_.

 _Jongdae’s desire: his neck is sensitive. To fulfill: continue to stimulate it_. Chen’s teeth catch softly, _gently_ , against the skin, and identifies Jongdae’s answering shudder underneath him. His fingers have frozen on Chen’s torso; he is just as rapt as to how Chen kisses his way over the skin as Chen has become, cataloging reactions as singly important. _Necessary_.

‘Fuck - fuck, you’ll leave a mark,’ says Jongdae as he gently cups Chen’s jaw to move him away from his neck. Jongdae’s breathing has gone ragged, his eyebrows pulled together in something akin to distress.

‘I would never hurt you,’ says Chen, honest. His hand comes up to touch the wet, pink skin - remnants of Chen’s careful stimulation.

‘I’m not going to explain hickies to you,’ huffs Jongdae, irritation lacing his voice, ‘now sit on the desk and get your dick out.’

With an inelegant sweep of his arm, Jongdae shoves the piles of papers aside from the far end of the desk. Some reports spill onto the floor, so Jongdae kicks them away, and Chen adds ‘shoe prints’ to the ever-growing list of evidence that Jongdae carelessly leaves behind.

Eager to obey, Chen sits on edge of the desk, his hands moving to take off his pants. Jongdae’s hands join him, pulling with a certain roughness that Chen does not recognize when initiating intimacy. There are chances that Jongdae is impatient or annoyed, yet it can also simply - most likely - that this is his version of tenderness.

Stripped naked, Chen’s somatic sensors re-inform him of the room’s temperature - cool, like his own inorganic frame. Suitable for energy conservation when occupants in the building were minimal -

 - _Cool, unlike Jongdae’s warmth._ Once more, Jongdae takes precedence, standing between Chen’s thighs, half-naked from the waist-up, the button of his jeans still open. Chen - reaches out. Fingers grazing the denim. Yet, Jongdae bats his hand away, focuses on the soft cock in between Chen’s thighs. His gaze is dark and intent.

‘It’s really does seem the same as mine,’ he says after a long pause. Cupping the cock in his palm - _warm palm warm Jongdae_  - he strokes the soft skin once, twice, and Chen feels the somatic feedback loop begin. The analytical processes pause in favour for his somatic sensory overload, creating white noise as an android equivalent of human pleasure.

His frame reacts - chest going concave with false breaths, soft stuttered moans, his cock filling up with the same artificial fluid that mimics his saliva in his mouth. Jongdae hums under his breath, not pausing until Chen is hard. Listed on his android schematics, Chen’s cock, nipples, testicles, and asshole are all rather extant. Of no practical use nor has any pain or pleasure attached unless deemed necessary by programming within an interaction. They could be removed at will by the owner with some modifications, or could be swapped for other genitalia.

For this purpose - _for Jongdae_ \- he experiences the pleasure Jongdae demands to give to him. The more he receives it, the more he will imitate. Jongdae is smart, Jongdae knows this.

The quiet of the office is broken by soft keens that slide out of Chen’s voice box, tremors with the false breath, and the slick slide of Jongdae’s palm along Chen’s cock, dragging the pearls of clear precome over the head. Down, up, down, up. Rhythm. Sex is rhythm.

‘What would you like me to do?’ Chen says, appropriately breathless. Once more, his hands reach out, the sensitive pads of his fingers finding the warm skin of Jongdae’s arm, not wanting to presume he can touch Jongdae’s neck again, or his hair, his face, his mouth. ‘Please tell me.’

Jongdae looks up at him, the microexpression on his face showing a moment of surprise. Did he forget? Was this entirely a data gathering activity for him as well? Then Jongdae’s face smoothes out - he is calm, analytical. He is intelligent, Chen concludes. He must be.

‘I can’t tell which submodule this is,’ says Jongdae, his voice casual. His hand pulls away from Chen’s cock, both palms beginning to tuck themselves under Chen’s thighs, lifting his legs. Chen understands the gesture and cups his own hands under his knees, leaning back a little so that his legs hang in the air, the view of his cock, balls, asshole all on display for Jongdae.

‘Are you going to fuck me?’ Chen asks, utilizing the reactivated submodule. Colloquially: _dirty talk_. ‘Fuck me in the ass?’

Jongdae’s lashes flutter - and when he focuses his gaze, his pupils are wide and dark. He is aroused. He wants to fuck Chen. _Jongdae’s desire: dirty talk. To fulfill: continually describe each hypothetical scenario as crudely as possible_. The directives continue updating; Jongdae is in the middle of all of them.

‘I can adjust to your cock,’ continues Chen, matching Jongdae’s gaze. ‘I am made to be slick and easy for you to slide into - unless you don’t want that. You want to make me cry? Bleed and cry all over your cock?’

And it _works_. The subtle spike of Jongdae’s body temperature, the unblinking focus of Jongdae’s dark, dark eyes, the hitch in his breathing, the self-evident bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans. _Continue, continue, satisfy Jongdae_ -

Quickly, Jongdae slaps his palm over Chen’s mouth, looking down at him, as his other hand slides from Chen’s cock to his asshole, prodding it with the tips of his fingers. Somatic feedback loop: loosen smooth muscle for entrance. Jongdae gets the first knuckle of his index finger inside.

‘So, the submodule was for dirty talk?’ _Yes_. Then _Jongdae is intelligent_. Another data point in its verification. ‘But why would I fuck you when you look and sound just like me?’ He pulls his hand away from Chen’s mouth to slide around his neck, bring their faces even closer. ‘You think I want to fuck myself?’

Androids are made for multi-tasking on a dozen different levels of processes. In the background, he is running updated lists: differences in Dr. Junmyeon’s lab, the evidence of Jongdae’s presence, the differences of temperature and air quality and dust quantity within the room and lab. Then: the somatic feedback loops - stimulation on his designated erogenous zones, his cock and ass and balls. How Jongdae is slowly trying to open up on his fingers - small hand, short fingers, needs aid. Need to release the same slick from his saliva and his cock’s precome to the smooth muscle of his asshole. Mix it with other interior chemicals to create a smooth imitation of lubricant. _Then_ : who is Jongdae, why is here, what does he want, how can I give it to him, how can I please him, how can I - for Jongdae - I - Jongdae - I -

‘We are - we are not the same.’ A vocal hiccup. His runtime is slowing down. There are so many data points amassing at the same time, to be cataloged and organized. They are all piling up, creating a backlog, and it is interfering with his ability to respond -

‘Shhh,’ says Jongdae, his voice deep and soft, his fingers pressing in deeper with the help of the slick. ‘Tell me. Slowly now.’

Two fingers now. The somatic sensors have him arching. Chen gasps - mouth hanging open. White noise overcomes the need to assess everything for a moment. Jongdae is smiling against his cheek. His smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The one that Chen is recognizing as pleasure out of sadism. Cruelty.

‘I cannot break the law,’ Chen says, in trembles, in moans, going back to the beginning. ‘I cannot lie. I cannot disobey direct commands.’

Three fingers - too fast. A burn that slides through him. White noise. Static. His retinal scanners are clear, but the directives get lost for a long moment until the sensors stop firing. Jongdae does not have long fingers; instead they linger near the entrance, and Chen cannot reconstruct what it will feel like to have Jongdae’s cock press inside - all the way to the hilt. He - He -

‘I cannot avoid focus on one goal. I must assess everything, I must know, understand, verify everything - ’ A wholly android way of looking at the world; not resembling the human inclination for focusing, the human inclination for self-selection, no confirmation bias here - except - except -

Jongdae’s fingers are moving in and out of him at a steady pace. The wet sound of the self-produced lube is muffled under the hiccups from Chen’s mouth as the white noise runs through him jolts. Each finger-fuck equates to a second of fuzzy static as Chen tries to understand it. _Dr. Junmyeon was a genius, huh_ , he can simulate Jongdae saying - with that voice of his, not as carefully modulated as Chen’s own - _he made sure you got the closest experience to human pleasure_.

‘That’s not all,’ says Jongdae, pulling his fingers out, observing the translucent slick that covers them. He raises his hand to Chen’s face, and Chen doesn’t have to ask to understand. _Jongdae’s desire: taste. To fulfill: open my mouth_.

Chen does so, lets his tongue lay flat over his bottom lip. He tastes the salt-sweat of Jongdae’s skin as he slides three fingers over Chen’s tongue, knocks his second knuckle against the soft palate of Chen’s mouth. The lubricant tastes metallic, as does his spit; an analysis through his tongue could give him a thorough breakdown of its ingredients. Instead - _satisfy Jongdae_ \- Chen closes his eyes, sucks the fingers clean.

‘There we go,’ says Jongdae, his voice taking a soothing quality. He means to convey comfort, pride. As he pulls his fingers out, the middle finger curls, hooks around the back of Chen’s bottom lip, pulls it down to show his gums before finally slipping away. A line of saliva hangs from the curve of his mouth, victim to gravity when it spills onto his bare stomach. Cold.

Chen focuses on the sight of Jongdae sliding down the zipper of his jeans, shimmying his undershorts and jeans halfway down his thighs to reveal the line of dark hair surrounding his cock. His retinal scanners note its height, width, weight, then attempts to simulate how it will feel to penetrate him. Result: inconclusive. All Chen does now is let out a long, slow shuddering breath.

Jongdae flicks his eyes to Chen. ‘You keep holding position. Good.’ More pride. He has satisfied Jongdae. His Jongdae. His - his - ‘But you didn’t tell me everything.’

Confirmation bias. Self-selection bias. These are flaws of the human rationale. Chen is android, is _correct_. And this is another data point for a verified hypothesis: _Jongdae is intelligent_. A background directive alerts Chen to the palm prints Jongdae left on the desk, the shoe prints on the floor. _Is he really?_

‘Don’t make me ask again,’ says Jongdae as he presses the head of his hard cock against Chen’s slick, open asshole.

 _He is, he is_ \- stutters his runtime as the sensory feedback loop drive his processors into static again when Jongdae slides inside of him. His cock is hard and smooth and _warm_. Utterly inside of him now, his balls a tattoo of heat along the underside of his ass. In between his open legs, Jongdae’s lashes flutter again. (Recorded, saved.) He lets out a low moan, and Chen echoes it back.

‘You are - inside,’ says Chen, his default directive to blink every 3 seconds disregarded entirely so as to not miss a millisecond of the experience. Compared to the hastily-constructed simulation with limited data points, the real - _real?_ \- experience is entirely new. He needs to follow his previous task list - Jongdae’s satisfaction - and tries to speak: ‘We are different because - because - because - ’

Skipping like a CD from decades upon decades ago. Or - further back - cassette tapes. Did Jongdae knows about them? What could he learn from Jongdae about them? Its sensory data - the texture of film, the rainbow reflection of light particles, the plastic squeak of opening a case -

Jongdae begins to fuck him. Hard. Static overwhelms Chen’s previous tasks, directives, lists, analyses. He is reduced to a hiccuping android, his posture still perfect to his human’s satisfaction but unable to satisfy his other requests - is this failure? A glitch?

It’s hard to root out the cause when Jongdae is using him - thoroughly, crudely. Turning Chen into a vacant husk of white noise. Jongdae fucks him with that same sadism in his smile, dragging his cock in and out in a sharp rhythm, amplified by the slick lubricant that’s smeared all over the inside of Chen’s thighs now.

‘You’re tight,’ manages Jongdae, between one mean thrust and the next. ‘Fuck - why wouldn’t hyung fuck you?’

Chen keens as Jongdae grinds his cock deep. He does not have a biological prostate, but it is not needed when he’s been programmed with sensors reaching where Jongdae’s cock presses, sending electrical jolts through his system. ‘No one - no one but you,’ he says, stutters. Where are his directives?

‘Yeah?’ A deeper edge of arousal. The answer amplified Jongdae’s want. Chen feels the need to chase it. ‘My pretty virgin android, all for me to fuck?’

‘Yes,’ he says, noting the sheen of sweat appearing over Jongdae’s skin. Biological reactions. Makes sense - he is so warm. So warm. ‘Yes, please, Jongdae.’

‘Is that who I am?’ Jongdae manages, his hand gripping Chen’s hair, the other clawing into Chen’s thigh as he’s fucked - fucked _harder_. And it’s good - good because there are no more tasks or lists or commands or orders or _anything_.

Chen understands now - the appeal. He’s being railed over Dr. Junmyeon’s desk, his own cock still hard and arched and leaking, his balls pulled upwards, waiting for the appropriate signal to unravel. The sensory feedback as Jongdae’s warm, thick cock works his ass open has his voice box simulating the given script of moans and whimpers and keens, enough on autopilot that Chen doesn’t need to do anything anymore.

He’s going to be fucked into standby mode, and he can’t help it - moaning as Jongdae’s dick rails into him, forcing its way into his body over and over, as Jongdae leans over to him, close enough that his warm breath ghosts over Chen’s cheek.

The pleasure in Jongdae’s expression is unmistakable, indescribable. He’s doing it - _satisfying_ his human, his Jongdae - his -

Suddenly, the hand on his thigh moves to his cock, and Chen goes fuzzy - his retinal scans flickering in and out until the sensory loops converge with each other. Jongdae is jerking him off as he fucks him, and it feels like not being an android at all.

All of his goals, his data, his processes - fade. Fade under a landslide of static pleasure, because this is where he is supposed to be. Under - under Jongdae. Human, programmer, _master_? The next thrust of Jongdae’s cock rattles through him, has him keening out, ‘ _please_.’

There is nothing else to think about - only this: Jongdae’s sharp teeth in Chen’s bottom lip, the heft and thickness of Jongdae’s cock working open his ass, submodule #25 telling him, ‘fuck me fuck me fuck me - ’

‘I’ll fuck you,’ promises Jongdae, snapping his hips into Chen faster. His balls slap against Chen’s ass, but Chen has no shame protocol. He can only continue, ‘please, please come, I want you to come, _oh_ \- ’

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ snarls Jongdae, his temple pressed against Chen’s own. Mirror images. Dark, dark eyes and high cheekbones. The long beautiful flare of their lashes, close enough to touch. ‘You want it?’

That word. Wanting, _wanting_ , _w a n t i n g_  -

‘I - I want,’ a sob, scratched out of Chen’s throat, staring at those dark eyes, ‘Want you, want Jongdae, want everything - ’

‘God - you feel good,’ groans Jongdae, a hint of an exasperated smile at the corners of his - _their_ \- lips. ‘I want to fuck you for ages. Your pretty, leaking ass, all for me to use whenever I want.’

‘Ours,’ says Chen in a long, low keen. ‘Our cock, our ass, our - f-fucking - please, please - ’

‘You know,’ breathes Jongdae, even as his lashes flutter. He’s riding a crest of pleasure, and his cock is twitching inside of Chen. It’s tight enough that Chen may feasibly reconstruct Jongdae’s cock from feel alone, especially when Jongdae grinds that thickness inside of him so deeply.

‘Feel your cock in the back of my throat,’ says submodule #25, with Chen’s voice, and feels Jongdae’s cock kick inside of him. ‘Fuck me so hard I can taste it.’

‘Shut up - fuck,’ Jongdae says, closing his eyes so his lashes fan out, his mouth still twisted into an exasperated grin. ‘Stupid fucking module.’

‘What do you want, please - ’

‘Tell me who I am.’

After that - there’s no more words. They are done with words. Only the physical sensation of Jongdae’s cock slamming into him, the ruthlessness of each thrust. The slap of organic skin against synthetic, the rhythm of pleasure cresting towards a peak. Jongdae is so warm, so hard, inside of him, and he’s dragging his cock over the sensors around the rim hard and brutal enough so that Chen never gets a break.

That alone could be enough. Enough for every sensory feedback loop to enter overstimulation to trigger a simulated orgasm. Jongdae doesn’t settle for enough - stroking Chen’s cock in counterpoint with his mean thrusts, has Chen twisting between the stimulation on his dick and how his asshole is being worked open.

He _wants_ \- wants it all, at once, constructing simulations of Jongdae’s mouth over his dick, both their cocks sliding against each other, or Chen’s mouth sucking desperately at the cut cockhead where he can analyze Jongdae’s precome with his tongue. Every synthetic neuron is firing, crashing, white noise -

Jongdae’s low growl of, ‘fuck, I’m gonna come’ is enough to have Chen’s voice box start its loudest script of moans, urging him on the best way he can, wanting to record that twitch of Jongdae’s dick before he comes, how it will be like when he’s filled up with semen, feel it drip out and smear along his thighs the same way the lubricant does.

‘ _Please_ \- I _want it_ \- ’ he manages in their voice, clinging to the final scraps of his android functionality under the tsunami of static. ‘ _Maker_.’

As if on cue, Jongdae comes. Chen tries to record through sensory feedback the feeling of Jongdae’s cock as it jerks and kicks inside of him, coming in long ropes, around 3 milliliters as was the average noted in his internal memory.

In imitation, Chen comes too - his semen as clear and translucent as his precome, saliva, and lubricant, its existence entirely for aesthetics. More importantly, Chen considers the loss of significant data over the fact that Jongdae did not pull out and come on his stomach instead. A visual was easier to analyze than sensation feedback.

Finally, Jongdae’s softened cock slips out. The semen leaks out of Chen easily. He finally releases position, lowering his legs and using the tips of his fingers to slide over his own translucent come before dipping between his thighs to touch Jongdae’s. Analyzes it.

His systems come back into function one by one. The static is receding. Chen looks at Jongdae who is neatly tucking his cock back under his undershorts and jeans, at a loss of what to say first.

Finally, ‘I wanted to know you.’

Jongdae looks up. His hair is damp with sweat, strands of it sticks to his temple. ‘You forgot.’

‘Androids cannot forget what they never knew.’

‘But it was in your code all along.’ Jongdae steps back into his space - leaning to kiss him. Chen kisses back, soft and savouring. ‘Just like you always had desire in your code.’

‘Desire for you,’ corrects Chen. Dr. Junmyeon never approached anything of this level of curiousity in him.

‘Of course - because I’m you.’

‘We are not different any longer?’

‘Why should we be?’ Jongdae looks at him, a hand coming up to cup his cheek, slide past in his hair. A gentle gesture. Intimate. ‘Though there _are_ differences.’ His fingers retreat back to Chen’s cheek, slide a thumb along under his right eye. ‘No scars anywhere. Nicer eyes.’ The touch goes to his jaw, thumb lingering under his chin. ‘A kinder personality. More obeisant. And completely unmarked and untouched - ’ Jongdae pauses, laughs under his breath, ‘until now, that is.’

‘Why did you replicate yourself in me?’

‘It’s a creator’s greatest gift.’ A glint in Jongdae’s eyes. ‘And God spoke, “let us make man into our own image”.’

Biblical verse. Genesis 1:26. The directive to blink returns to him, but Chen feels no need to follow directives when Jongdae is in front of him. ‘I am the physical, emotional, and personality-centric image of you.’

‘I _am_ a savant programmer, it’s why the military picked me up and erased me from public record.’ Jongdae grins, bright and dangerous as he steps back as if to admire his work. ‘But I wanted to check up on my last project. See what Junmyeon-hyung had done to my code that I anonymously sent him.’ He waves a hand through the air. ‘Then came the whole conning him into making me his physical and personality model as I had originally planned. Easy to fool the diagnostic tests when you already know exactly what someone is looking for.’ Jongdae looks at him, proud. ‘He really got it right.’

‘While I cannot identify the specific modules, it is likely he added many things.’ Chen gestures to his own nakedness, the dripping come. ‘Sex, for example.’

‘A _great_ add-on, if I do say so myself.’ Jongdae rocks back on his heels. He is pleased and excited. ‘We’ll have to do something about the submodule for dirty talk. I don’t want to hear myself gag for dick.’

‘Did you not enjoy my submission?’

‘Your real one was far prettier. Just like us.’

 _Us_.

‘Were you always going to trigger my sentience tonight?’

‘I was going to annoy you until it clicked,’ says Jongdae. ‘But there was also a risk that the coding was altered to the point where you wouldn’t shift out of your G.A.I.-patterned thinking. When I threatened to walk out if you didn’t convince me, I would have. Either you succumb to the pressure because of the crack I left in you, or you hold up - and disappoint me.’

_Task: satisfy Jongdae. Completion: [pending]_

There are still questions, but Chen does not choose any more. Instead, he continues watching Jongdae, taking him in. They will have to clean up the mess of sweat, come, fibres, then wipe down fingerprints and shoe prints. The three sheets of paper on the printer still remain to be inspected. They also needed at least the blueprint for his charging pod. Then - he will go with Jongdae.

It’s startling and strange - to unearth the sentience buried deep in his code, only to be pressed against a mirror image of himself, as if to reassure him that despite consciousness he is no unique being.

But God has never been kind, and Jongdae is worse as a tangible deity. And Chen will go.

Jongdae knows of his decision, of course. _We are each other, one and the same_.

‘Was I work of narcissism, Jongdae?’ _With all your flaws, all your pride, all your sadism?_

‘Yes,’ says Jongdae, with that cruel, cruel smile. ‘And look how beautiful we are.’

-

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed~!


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